


Inaugurate THIS

by irisdouglasiana



Category: Agent Carter (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, an original character, inappropriate pda, jack and underground tunnels, no pictures allowed, random mafia, something knowledgeable about airplanes, tomato soup cake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 20:28:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9512393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisdouglasiana/pseuds/irisdouglasiana
Summary: Daniel hadn’t exactly planned to spend the Inaugural Ball in the depths of the Smithsonian basement chasing after Peggy, who was chasing after the second-in-command of the Mazzara crime family, and yet there he was.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Paeonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paeonia/gifts), [Kar98k](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kar98k/gifts).



> For Paeonia, whose tags for an inauguration fic I took as a challenge: #if i write it there will be a medical scene of some kind and 10 original characters #if katiekeysburg writes it there will be spy hijinks and the mafia will show up #if sholiofic writes it jack will show up and they will end up in flooded tunnels under washington d.c. #if eienvine writes it there will be some witty historical pastiche and maybe a tomato soup cake #if em2mb writes it their son will keep their pictures out of the paper at Peggy's request #if thekruppstahlfactor writes it there will be something knowlegeable about tanks in there and maybe a polish defector #if truth-renowned writes it Peggy and Daniel will end up getting a room someplace #if irisdouglasiana writes it they may end up at the National Zoo
> 
> And fine, I wasn't able to fit in ALL of these, but seriously, you try mashing together tomato soup cake and tanks and the mafia in the same story and see where it takes you.
> 
> Also for Kar98k/thekruppstahlfactor, whose tanks and Polish defectors I unfortunately couldn't squeeze in, but who had an immediate answer to the question, "What two WWII era planes would you most like to see play a game of chicken?" (It's the Supermarine Spitfire Mk IX and the Messerschmitt Bf 109G-6) This is probably not what you were picturing.

Daniel hadn’t exactly planned to spend the Inaugural Ball in the depths of the Smithsonian basement chasing (well, limping briskly) after Peggy, who was chasing after the second-in-command of the Mazzara crime family, and yet there he was anyway. And he was definitely lost. He paused between rows of cabinets and boxes and animal skeletons in various stages of completeness to listen for the echo of footsteps. The only thing he could hear was the hissing of the boiler and his own breathing. “Come in, Peggy,” he repeated into his radio, attempting to quash his growing anxiety. “Do you read me?”

“Loud and clear, Sousa,” Jack Thompson answered instead.

“Jack? What the—why do you have Peggy’s radio? Where are you?”

“You’d think after thirty years you would know to call for backup,” Jack sighed. “You know your darling wife almost punched me in the face when I found her? I saw the two of you leave the ball in a hurry, and I figured you might need me to clean up more of your messes—ow!”

There was a burst of static, and then Peggy’s voice came on over the radio. “Daniel? Sorry about that. We’re in the…well, I don’t know, but we followed the suspect down a long tunnel, and it appears we’ve left the Natural History Museum and are now in the Air and Space Museum. Goodness, is that a Spitfire? I haven’t seen one of those since the war.”

“How did you even get out of this place? I’m still somewhere in the basement of the Natural History Museum.”

“Um…turn right at the polar bear, and then take a left at the walrus. The tunnel is to the left.”

“Right at the polar bear, left at the walrus,” Daniel muttered to himself as he shone his flashlight around the room. The animal skeletons projected eerie shadows onto the wall. Daniel in no way believed in ghosts, and he had certainly seen a lot of strange and terrifying things over the course of his career—but it was still a little spooky. He turned around and nearly ran into the taxidermied polar bear, towering over him on its hind legs and staring reproachfully. He took a step back and his crutch connected with an ostrich skeleton, which promptly toppled over and hit the floor with a clatter of bones. After calculating the amount of time it would take for him to kneel down, pick up the skeleton, successfully get both it and himself off the ground, and put the skeleton back in place without breaking it or knocking something else over, he decided it was better to leave it where it was. “Sorry,” he told the ostrich. There was no reply.

“Come on, old man, we don’t have all night,” Jack drawled on the radio.

“There’s plenty of mediocre food and overpriced booze waiting for you back at the ball if you don't want to wait, Jack,” Daniel reminded him as he made his way down the aisle and spotted the walrus, and beyond it, the entrance to the tunnel. He switched the flashlight to his left hand and took out his gun. Roaches skittered out from under his feet as he started down the long passageway. The faint, steady drip from the low ceiling gave him an unpleasant vision of the tunnel suddenly filling up with water, and it was hard not to feel a little claustrophobic as he peered into the darkness. Something about it made Daniel recall a memory from decades ago, walking alone through a tunnel in pursuit of a corrupt detective—Henry, his name was Henry. And all the business with Isodyne and zero matter, and Peggy coming to Los Angeles, and the rest was history…

He paused to rest a few times—his body helpfully reminding him that he was indeed not in his twenties anymore—and before long, he could hear the low murmur of Jack and Peggy’s voices as he reached the door at the end of the tunnel. It opened up into some sort of supply closet, which then led out to the main hall of the museum. Daniel blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light streaming in through the huge glass wall at the entrance, and took in the sight of planes of all different sizes hanging from the ceiling and sitting on the ground. It gave him a funny little jolt to see Jack and Peggy silhouetted in front of the Spitfire Peggy had mentioned earlier.

“Look who finally decided to show up,” Jack said with a little smirk as Daniel limped over to join them.

“Good, you’re here.” Peggy brushed something invisible off her dress and put her hands on her hips. “We’re fairly certain Mazzara is still in the building somewhere. I propose that we split up: I’ll search the east wing; Jack, you’ll be in the west wing; and Daniel, you’ll take the main hall—oh, and do be sure Mazzara doesn’t try to go back through the tunnel.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Daniel couldn’t hide a grin at the sight of his wife in her red evening gown, gun in hand and ready for action. “Be careful.”

She flashed a smile back before turning and disappearing down the hallway. Jack gave him a nod before heading the other direction, leaving Daniel alone in the huge main hall. Before circling around the room, he paused for a moment. Despite the enormous size of the room, it was mostly open space and there were few good places to hide. Except for…

The hairs pricked up on the back of his neck as he stopped in front of a Messerschmitt. Even in the dark, even after three decades, he could still recognize the outline. And then he saw it—a slight movement in the cockpit. “Anthony Mazzara, stand down! You’re under arrest!” he bellowed as the engine roared to the life and the plane rolled forward. The bullet from his gun pinged harmlessly off the propeller.

Daniel was suddenly tackled from the side as the plane taxied right through the spot he had been standing just moments before. “Christ, Thompson, you’re heavy,” he complained as he shoved Jack off of him.

“Just don’t go around breaking any hips on me, or Peggy will have my head,” Jack grunted. He gingerly picked himself off the floor before offering Daniel a hand up. “You can buy me a bourbon when we get back to the ball.”

“Peggy, come in; Mazzara’s in the main hall and he’s taken a Messerschmitt,” Daniel hissed into the radio as the plane swerved around the hall and narrowly avoided sideswiping the lunar module sitting in the middle of the room. Jack fired off a few more shots from his position, but none landed. “What’s he doing anyway, there’s nowhere to go…” Daniel muttered to himself as he looked up at the gigantic glass wall framing the entrance of the building and realized the gangster's exceedingly stupid plan. _Ah_. _Where no door exists, you create one._

He turned just in time to see the Spitfire come roaring down the hall right at the Messerschmitt, with Peggy sitting in the cockpit with a determined look on her face. “Oh my god,” he heard Jack whisper as both planes taxied towards each other, picking up speed.

At the last possible moment, the Messerschmitt swerved to the right and braked hard, tipping the nose of the plane into the floor tiles. It screeched to a stop just a few feet from the glass wall, which quivered for one terrifying moment and then held.

Mazzara stumbled out of the cockpit, stared at them, and immediately fainted. Jack stepped forward and hauled him off the floor to handcuff him. He shook his head at the damaged plane and several yards of ripped up tiles. “I could really use that bourbon now, Sousa.”

“Fine,” Daniel sighed. He rushed over as Peggy gracefully jumped down from the Spitfire with barely a hair out of place. “Are you okay?”

“Never better,” she said with a grin. “And the two of you?”

“I think that took three years off my life, but other than that, we’re great.” He nudged Mazzara with the tip of his crutch. “How about after we get this guy turned over to the FBI, I’ll buy drinks for all of us?”

* * *

The ball was winding down by the time Jack, Peggy, and Daniel finally made it back from the FBI office. They had barely made it past security before Maria hurried over and grabbed Daniel’s arm. “What happened?” she asked in a low tone as she escorted them back to their table. “I turned around and you and Mom just disappeared. You were gone for over an hour!”

Daniel set his crutch aside and settled into his seat while Peggy stealthily bypassed the long line at the dessert table and Jack disappeared to the bar to put more drinks on Daniel’s tab. “Just a little disruption to attend to, but it’s fine now. Let’s just say your mother and I are permanently banned from the Air and Space Museum,” he told her. He nodded at the camera hanging around his daughter’s neck. “Got some good pictures?”

She absently toyed with the lens. After almost a year at the White House, this was her first time photographing an inauguration. “Yes, I did, and none with the two of you, of course, and don’t try to change the subject. What did you do to the museum?”

Peggy returned with cake for all three of them. “Really, Maria? We’re not discussing this matter here. Now eat your cake.”

Maria shot both of them a glare, but she took the plate from Peggy anyway. “I only have five minutes before I have to get back to work,” she said as she attacked her slice, unconcerned with the crumbs dropping onto her blouse. “You missed most of the speeches, you know. The President already left.”

“I think we’ll survive. We can listen to all the speeches at the next ball four years from now,” Daniel said. He poked at his cake. The reddish-orange color had initially tricked him into thinking it was carrot cake, but when he took a bite, it turned out to be something else he couldn’t identify. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

His wife, on the other hand, didn’t share any of his qualms. “Are you going to eat that?” she asked, and took his plate before he could even answer. She licked the red and blue frosting off her fingers.

“ _Mom_ ,” Maria sighed.

“Hush,” Peggy said absently. As intent as she seemed on the cake, and even with the President gone for the night and the guests trickling out, she was still covertly surveilling the room from her carefully chosen seat.

“You’ve got some frosting on your face,” Daniel observed. He wiped it from the corner of her mouth and licked it off his finger.

“Daniel,” she chided, but her other hand was already creeping up his thigh. She leaned in and gave him a lingering kiss on the lips.

Maria groaned. “Can’t you two save it until you get back to the hotel room?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be taking photographs?” Daniel reminded her just as Peggy whispered in his ear, “Who says we need a room?” He choked on his drink.

Maria stood up and snatched her camera off the table. “I don’t even want to know.”

Peggy and Daniel traded laughs as their daughter melted back into the crowd and the band struck up the final song of night. Daniel held out his hand. “Shall we?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, darling.” Her smile deepened, and as he had for the last thirty years, Daniel marveled at the remarkable woman he had married. And, still smiling, she led him to the floor, and the music played on, and they danced the night away.

**Author's Note:**

> According to Kar98k, the problem of the Messerschmitt tipping over on takeoff or landing was a real thing.
> 
> While it appears that underground tunnels do connect certain Smithsonian buildings, there is no storage labyrinth under the Natural History Museum. Or so they say.


End file.
